


No More Waffles

by murphybabe



Series: Whole Foods [3]
Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M, Whole Foods
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5441051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murphybabe/pseuds/murphybabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another trip to Whole Foods, and this time it's Bodie who causes a fuss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More Waffles

**Author's Note:**

> It just gets fluffier, I'm afraid.

Bodie peered cautiously into the store.

‘Come on, nothing can possibly happen this year.’

Bodie glanced at Doyle with a quizzically-raised eyebrow.

‘After all,’ Doyle continued, ‘how many ex-girlfriends have been released from prison this year?’

‘The way you went through them, how would you ever know?’

Doyle grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him past the security guard who was trying to explain that the main shop wasn’t open yet, and up the stairs to the café.

‘Lemme think, what could go wrong… manic yummy mummies, the wrong coffee for you, no free tables, or even – God forbid – no bloody waffles again.’

They stopped at the first counter. Doyle started laughing.

‘No waffles.’ Bodie’s tone was flat. ‘It’s not even on the fucking menu any more. They’ve stopped serving them.’

Doyle was unsympathetic. ‘It’s all your fault, you know. You made such a fuss last year. Why don’t you have a nice, healthy smoothie instead?’

‘Sod off, Doyle.’

‘Look, beetroot, apple and ginger. It’ll make you pee red.’

‘Right, you bastard, that’s it.’

‘What? What’ve I done?’ Oh, the look of innocence. Bodie wasn’t fooled for a minute.

‘We’re going home. Now.’

‘But I haven’t had me coffee yet!’

‘Sod your coffee. If I don’t get my waffles you don’t get your poncey coffee.’

‘But at your age a smoothie’s better for your libido than an artery-clogging waffle.’

‘My libido?’ Bodie turned to stare at his partner, who responded with another of those limpid, wide-eyed looks.

‘Are you implying that there’s something wrong with my libido? That there’s something lacking with my sex drive? Are you not satisfied in some way?’

‘No, not that, not at all. That is –‘

‘You’re not satisfied?’ By this time, Bodie’s voice had risen in volume and he was attracting fascinated attention from behind the counter. Doyle was making pacifying flapping motions which in their turn were causing interest from the queue backing up behind them, and the whole situation was devolving nicely, thought Bodie happily. He took a menacing step towards Doyle.

‘If you’re not happy with our sex life, sunshine, I suggest you take some of that whipped cream they _used_ to put on their bleeding waffles here, and put it –‘

‘Gentlemen!’

Everyone turned towards the new arrival, who smiled anxiously on the assembled crowd.

‘Now, gentlemen, what seems to be the problem? Oh, hello – it’s… oh. Hello.’ It was the manager of the store, who had hurried over on spotting the knot of trouble, ready to conciliate and placate. His attitude changed as he recognised the two agents who had simultaneously caused the havoc in his store last year and saved a bad situation from becoming worse. His eyes narrowed.

‘Can I help?’

‘Not really, no.’ Bodie could do the narrowed eyes thing too. He’d narrowed his eyes in more serious situations than a coffee-stand in a high-class food market, and at better – or worse – characters than a general manager.

‘All right, mate,’ Doyle interjected. ‘Don’t worry, s-‘

‘Mate?’ hissed the manager, taking offence.

‘No, not you, sir. My partner here –‘

‘Mate?’ Bodie demanded, in high dudgeon. ‘Oh, I’m your mate now, am I? Your partner? I thought that was the problem? I thought my services in the bedroom were unsatisfactory? Libido not strong enough?’

‘Well!’ The manager bustled forward, only to retreat again on seeing Doyle’s face.

Doyle strode forward, grabbing Bodie by the arm.

‘You. Shut it.’

‘But –‘

‘I said, shut it.’

Bodie did so.

Doyle turned to the crowd of assorted gawpers.

‘You lot, clear off. Now.’ Such was the authority in his voice and posture that no one questioned his command.

‘You behind the counter. Back to work.’ Despite the fact that Doyle had just dispersed all their customers, the baristas very wisely found themselves mysterious things to do.

‘Mr. Wilkins.’

The manager, who had watched this display open-mouthed, blinked. ‘Um… yes?’

‘I apologise. We’re leaving now.’

‘Ah. Fine. That is… um, thank you.’ What Mr. Wilkins was thankful for, he wasn’t quite sure. Possibly it was that these men were leaving his store again, and that this time it was all in one piece. He wondered if he could isolate their photographs from the CCTV footage and post them up for the security guards, so that they could be refused entry in future.

‘Bodie. Let’s go.’

Bodie looked at his partner, and had a moment of doubt. Oops. Perhaps he had gone a bit too far this time. Sulkily, he shrugged into his coat, watched by the beady eye of Mr. Wilkins.

‘It’s all your fault, you know,’ he muttered into the manager’s ear as they passed.

‘I beg your pardon?’ was the frosty response.

‘If you hadn’t taken waffles off the menu none of this would have happened.’

‘ _Bodie!_ ’

Ah, well, it had been fun while it had lasted. But he was looking forward to getting Doyle home. Their relationship had been far too calm of late and they’d lost something of that spark that he enjoyed. But you never knew, perhaps Whole Foods would learn, and there might be waffles again the next time they visited. Fingers crossed, eh?

**Author's Note:**

> Written (or started, at least) at a Prospersons gathering at Whole Foods on Kensington High Street in 2014. I do wish they'd put waffles back on the menu.


End file.
